Down by the slipralls stands our cow <br /> Chewing, chewing, chewing, <br />She does not care what folks out there <br /> In the great, big world are doing. <br />She sees the small cloud-shadows pass <br /> And green grass shining under. <br />If she does think, what does she think <br /> About it all, I wonder? <br /> <br />She sees the swallows skimming by <br /> Above the sweet young clover, <br />The light reeds swaying in the wind <br /> And tall trees bending over. <br />Far down the track she hears the crack <br /> of bullock-whips, and raving <br />Of angry men where, in the sun, <br /> Her fellow-beasts are slaving. <br /> <br />Girls, we are told, can scratch and scold, <br /> And boys will fight and wrangle, <br />And big, grown men, just now and then, <br /> Fret o'er some fingle-fangle, <br />Vexing the earth with grief or mirth, <br /> Longing, rejoicing, rueing - <br />But by the slipralls stands our cow, <br /> Chewing.<br /><br />Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/our-cow/
